


A Case Of You

by sherlockonthebarricade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:18:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockonthebarricade/pseuds/sherlockonthebarricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reimagining of the events of the June Rebellion, where Enjolras and Grantaire are in an established relationship. </p>
<p>Based on A Case Of You by Joni Mitchell (it's a song and it's beautiful and you should listen to it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Case Of You

Most of Les Amis de l'ABC had returned home for the last night before the revolution. Only Enjolras and Grantaire remained in the dimly lit back room of the Café Musain, one writing fervently and the other watching and drinking wine. Grantaire sat as close to Enjolras as he dared, wanting to be with him but not distract him from whatever he was doing that was so important. Enjolras was becoming more and more frustrated with each word he wrote. 

"Enjolras," Grantaire whispered, "are you scared about tomorrow?"  
Enjolras paused for a second, thinking, and then said, "my dearest Grantaire, I cannot fear for anything but the freedom of the people. I do not fear for my own life, I will not fear the soldiers that oppose us. My mind is made up. I will not stand for it any longer. My views will never change, I would give my life for them. I am as constant as the northern star."  
"Constantly in the darkness, where's that at? If you want me, I'll be in the bar." 

Grantaire left the room in search of something stronger to drink. He returned with another bottle of wine and a three day old newspaper, on which he began drawing. What had started off as a vague attempt at a map ended up as two sketches of Enjolras's face, which had stopped glaring down at the words he was writing and was now gazing at Grantaire.

Eventually, Grantaire fell asleep, his head buried in his arms, the bottle of wine almost empty. Enjolras got up and woke him. He sat next to him, placed one hand on his cheek and pressed their lips together. His hands slid round Grantaire's waist and held him close. When the broke apart, Grantaire was a little wobbly, probably from the amount of wine he'd drunk, or the unexpected kiss from Enjolras while he was still half asleep. 

Enjolras put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Are you alright, my love?"  
Grantaire nodded.  
"Are you sure? You've had too much to drink. You are unsteady on your feet. Maybe it was me, I apologise for kissing you like that."  
"Enjolras, I could drink a case of you and I would still be on my feet."

Enjolras fumbled with the keys to the small apartment they rented together, Grantaire leaning on his shoulders. The apartment consisted of three rooms: a bedroom, a sitting room and a small bathroom. The sitting room had a fireplace, two uncomfortable armchairs that were never used, a writing desk with papers and letters strewn all over and around it, and Grantaire's art supplies. Various paintings were hung on the walls. The largest one was on top of the fireplace, it was one Grantaire painted of Enjolras and the rest of their friends at a meeting one evening. They both loved the painting, but Enjolras always complained that Grantaire himself wasn't in it.

Enjolras pulled Grantaire into their little bedroom. Grantaire was already half asleep when Enjolras laid down beside him. Enjolras pulled him into his arms, kissed the top of his head and whispered, "I love you, Grantaire."  
"You love a lot of things, Enjolras."   
"I love nothing like I love you. The love I feel for you, this love is touching souls. You touched my soul, and my heart, and made it yours. I love you, Grantaire, more than anything."  
"More than you love the people of France?"  
Enjolras paused.  
"Don't go tomorrow."   
"Grantaire, I have to."  
"You don't have to, you could stay here, we could run away together. I'm scared, Enjolras, I'm scared of losing you."  
"You don't have to come."  
"Enjolras, where else would I be but by your side? I won't leave you."  
"I'm not afraid. There is nothing to be afraid of."

 

Les Amis sat huddled together on the barricade. Courfeyrac had just gone on watch, and Enjolras climbed down the barricade to sit with Grantaire, who pulled a bottle of wine from his coat. "Drink with me, my friends, today's gone by." 

The bottle was passed round, each revolutionary taking a sip. Enjolras slipped his hand into Grantaire's, and Grantaire felt him shaking. He glance up at Enjolras. "Can it be you fear to die?"  
"I fear for you. I fear I will lose you. I fear that we will fail and the world won't remember us when we fall, that our deaths will mean nothing at all. I fear that my life is just one more lie. Please, Grantaire, get out of here while you can. I would never forgive myself if you were lost to my cause."  
"You want me to leave?"   
"I want you to be safe. Go home, Grantaire."  
"I can't leave you."   
"Go, please."

Grantaire turned away from Enjolras, and got up to leave. He felt a tug on his shirt, then he was in Enjolras's arms once more. The two stood there for a while, holding each other close, not knowing when they'd be together again. 

After he'd left, Grantaire trudged miserably around Paris for a while. He bought a bottle of wine and sat against a wall to drink it, when a woman approached him. She reminded him of Enjolras, she had a mouth just like his and her hair was the same golden blonde. 

"You were on the barricade." She said, confused. Grantaire nodded. "Why did you leave?"  
"I was sent away."  
"He didn't want you getting hurt?" She smiled knowingly.  
"How do you know that?" Grantaire stood up.  
"You love him." She paused. "He loves you. Go to him. Stay with him if you can, but be prepared to bleed."

Nobody he knew was on watch, nobody who would recognise a drunk sneaking into the tavern behind the barricade. He climbed the stairs and found a table to sit at and drink his wine. Grantaire knew he would not be able to save Enjolras, but at least he could die with him.

When Grantaire woke from his drunken slumber, the room was filled with soldiers, pointing their guns at a man he couldn't see. He stood up, trying to tell them to stop, to wait for him. He pushed through the crowd of men, and stumbled over to the man he had loved from the moment they met.  
"Grantaire..." Enjolras breathed in despair. He looked at him with eyes so sorrowful they almost broke Grantaire's heart. Grantaire turned to the soldiers, his head held high.  
"Long live the Republic. I am one of them."

"Will you permit it?"

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics to the song this was based on: 
> 
> A Case of You, by Joni Mitchell
> 
> Just before our love got lost you said  
> "I am as constant as a northern star"   
> And I said "Constantly in the darkness   
> Where's that at?  
> If you want me I'll be in the bar" 
> 
> On the back of a cartoon coaster   
> In the blue TV screen light   
> I drew a map of Canada   
> Oh Canada   
> With your face sketched on it twice   
> Oh you're in my blood like holy wine   
> You taste so bitter and so sweet 
> 
> Oh I could drink a case of you darling   
> Still I'd be on my feet   
> oh I would still be on my feet
> 
> Oh I am a lonely painter   
> I live in a box of paints   
> I'm frightened by the devil   
> And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid 
> 
> I remember that time you told me you said  
> "Love is touching souls"   
> Surely you touched mine   
> 'Cause part of you pours out of me   
> In these lines from time to time   
> Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine   
> You taste so bitter and so sweet 
> 
> Oh I could drink a case of you darling   
> And I would still be on my feet   
> I would still be on my feet
> 
> I met a woman   
> She had a mouth like yours   
> She knew your life   
> She knew your devils and your deeds   
> And she said   
> "Go to him, stay with him if you can   
> But be prepared to bleed" 
> 
> Oh but you are in my blood   
> You're my holy wine   
> You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet
> 
> Oh, I could drink a case of you darling   
> Still I'd be on my feet   
> I would still be on my feet


End file.
